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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824510">they (shameless writers) don't know about us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyvo/pseuds/Elyvo'>Elyvo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Being an old-married couple right in front of everyone's salad, Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Gallavich, Husbands, Ian loves Mickey, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mickey says ACAB (All Carls Are Bastards), Rated T for Language (it's Mickey's POV what am I gonna do?), Terry Milkovich Mention, mickey loves ian, set in season 11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:15:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyvo/pseuds/Elyvo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If their life was some fucking tv-show for, by, and about fucked-up people their bad times would probably fill their screen-time because for some fucking reason Mickey doesn’t understand that’s what people look for when they turn on their TVs.<br/>But that’s the thing, there are no cameras around for their good times.</p><p>this is about those good times</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>they (shameless writers) don't know about us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They have good times.</p><p>Obviously they do, they’re not fucking masochists who’d marry someone they don’t actually enjoy hanging out with.<br/>
Okay, so the jury is still out on the masochist thing maybe but no matter what he may or may not enjoy in bed, Mickey isn’t that much of a masochist and neither is Ian.</p><p>And sure, they have bad times too, harsh words, slammed doors and bloody knuckles, fights that make them break shit like chairs or noses.</p><p>It’s over little shit mostly, sometimes big.<br/>
It’s almost always after a period of passive aggressive snapping from Ian and less-passive-more-aggressive taunts from Mickey that they end up at each other’s throats (not in the sexy way).</p><p>They’re two stubborn motherfuckers with short fucking fuses, Mickey supposes.</p><p>It’s part of what makes it fun.<br/>
Fighting is fun, ask anyone who’s gotten a taste, and fighting and then fucking is goddamn close to heaven if you ask him.<br/>
It’s all the pent-up energy and frustration that inevitably accumulates when you live on the south side with a criminal record as long as your ginger husband’s dick and more bills coming in than fucking pay checks.<br/>
Feels good to let it out once in a while and they know neither of them is going to make a scene or have any hard feelings over a busted-up lip or a bloody nose after they’re done.</p><p>It’s their normal and Mickey really only considers the times when one of them gets quiet instead of angry actual Bad Times - capital B, capital fucking T.<br/>
There’s nothing fun or satisfying about those times.<br/>
See, he’s not a masochist, told you so.</p><p>If their life was some fucking tv-show for, by and about fucked up people those times would probably fill their screen-time because for some fucking reason Mickey doesn’t understand, that’s what people look for when they turn on their TVs after a long day of having their lunch-break in a fucking Starbucks and watering their begonias and taking a jog while pushing their dog in a fucking stroller or whatever the fuck it is people who invest their time in fictional people’s bullshit do all day.</p><p>Those people’d eat their bad times right up.<br/>
Bickering, fighting, fucking, rinse, repeat every fucking Sunday or whenever these shows air.</p><p>But that’s the thing, there are no cameras around for their good times, when they’re calm and relaxed and just shoot the shit together. (There are no cameras around at any other fucking time either, Mickey knows that okay? Jesus fucking Christ, why do people take shit so literally?)</p><p>And to be fair, sometimes Mickey still doesn’t really know what to do with himself when things go too smoothly for a while.<br/>
After all the shit that went down, the years of repression and hiding and always fucking being scared of Terry, after Svet and after Ian’s fucking trip, after the hospital, prison, Mexico, fucking prison again it’s sometimes hard to take in that he and Ian are just sitting in the Gallaghers’ kitchen playing cards like they’re a hundred years old.</p><p>It’s sort of nice, he supposes.<br/>
He likes cards, likes to mess around with them, twirling and shuffling and cheating like a pro.<br/>
And he likes Ian, big surprise.<br/>
He likes the snide comments when his hand turns out to be better than Mickey’s, likes when he gives him shit for taking too long to fucking choose his next move, likes the way he grins around the mouth of his beer-bottle (only one, almost as ordered by his doctor) when Mickey huffs and throws his cards down on the table, leans back in his chair and scratches his eyebrow with his thumb.<br/>
Ian has a dumb, pretty face with a dumb, pretty smile and Mickey is weak for that shit.<br/>
He likes stretching out his legs until his feet are touching Ian’s, until they’re all tangled up and smiling at each other over Mickey’s shitty hand.</p><p>He doesn’t so much like it when inevitably some fucking Gallagher bursts into the kitchen, probably bleeding or giving birth or running from the cops or some other dramatic shit Mickey has come to expect since moving into the house.<br/>
<br/>
He's used to a full house, grew up in one himself but Gallaghers are an entirely different breed from Milkoviches.<br/>
Because here they all have Lives and Things that go on, with capital fucking letters and he's learned quickly that in this house you care about that shit, each other's shit.<br/>
Mickey mostly gets away with just grunting something unintelligible and letting Ian do the actual caring-part but when Ian's distracted that basically means Mickey's distracted as well so it's an entire thing.</p><p>There's also a lot of Gallaghers, at least four hundred last time Mickey's counted them.<br/>
And they’re all so fucking chatty all the time, if it weren’t a fucking absurd thing to miss, Mickey would miss the times when he could sit on the couch in the milkovichian living room and not have a single person say a word to him all fucking day. But he doesn’t because that would be stupid and because his Dad is a fag-bashing Nazi and that one really ends the entire debate, doesn’t it.</p><p>So yeah, the Gallaghers are noisy and annoying and there’s too many of them around at once and Mickey doesn’t like that.<br/>
The good thing though is that Ian knows that.<br/>
Knows that Mickey gets antsy when too many people talk at the same time and he doesn't know who to focus on.<br/>
And so most times Mickey gets like that he can count on Ian throwing him a specific look after a little while and then pulling Mickey up by his hand, interlocking their fingers and pulling him gently – or sometimes not so gently - with him up the stairs and into their room.</p><p>Mickey <em>really</em> likes what comes next, always has and always will until the day his dick stops working, sue him.</p><p>Falling into bed onto fresh sheets after round two in the shower and sharing a cigarette with Ian while silently enjoying the afterglow counts as one of the good times as well.<br/>
He feels fucked out, pleasantly sore in all the right places and so fucking content that he ends up doing soft shit sometimes, like taking Ian’s hand and kissing his knuckles or pulling Ian to lay on his chest while he runs his finger’s through his shower-damp hair.</p><p>Sometimes they drift off like that, tangled up together comfortably, each peacefully lost in their own thoughts or lack thereof.<br/>
Sometimes they talk, voices quiet, not quite whispering but relaxed and easy.<br/>
They reminisce about their years together, ignoring those they spent apart, they tell exaggerated stories of things that happened to a friend’s colleague’s nephew from Kentucky.</p><p>They laugh a lot, snorting and chuckling and yeah, sometimes maybe giggling a little and Ian really is Mickey’s favorite person.<br/>
It’s easy with Ian, all the shit Mickey has never been comfortable with like talking while making eye-contact and being not even a little bit drunk.<br/>
Ian always knows how to take Mickey’s jabs, his jokes, his stories, understands what he means with half-sentences or just a raise of his eyebrows.<br/>
They laugh at the same shit, think the same people are fucking insufferable and for all the years Mickey has spent primarily communicating through grunts, slurs and fists he has found that talking with Ian is actually fun.</p><p>Makes his heart feel all light and funny and shit and that just makes him need to kiss Ian for a while.<br/>
And if talking to Ian is fun then kissing Ian is like, fucking fun-city or some shit.<br/>
It’s good is what he’s saying, real good.</p><p>Ian’s hands are gigantic and that comes in handy (hah) in a variety of situations but actually one of Mickey’s favorite is that one right there, when Ian places his hands gently on either side of Mickey’s head as they kiss, holding him in place, close to him as their lips connect and rearrange over and over again.<br/>
Mickey tells Ian he loves him at this point and he doesn’t know if it’s because of their admittedly unstable past or if it’s like that for normal people too but it feels like the fucking fourth of July every single time he hears Ian say it back.</p><p>If it’s not infernal summer outside they sleep in each other’s arms in varying positions but Mickey always closer to the door. Just in case, yknow?</p><p>Mickey’s not a morning-person but he sure as hell is a morning-sex-person.<br/>
They don’t always bang before breakfast because sometimes they sleep through Ian’s alarm or sometimes they’re more hungry than they are horny but it happens regularly enough that Mickey is slowly changing his opinions of mornings as a concept.<br/>
Turns out, they’re not so bad after all, who fucking knew?</p><p>Even without it though, there are some good times to be had in the mornings, even though the house is always loud and busy, and the shower is practically constantly occupied by someone or their girlfriend of the week.<br/>
Like kissing Ian on top of the stairs and taking the time to lick every trace of minty tooth paste from his mouth, partly because it feels fucking fantastic and partly because it forces Carl to either stand and watch for a few minutes or take the living-room stairs instead.<br/>
It’s his duty as a Milkovich and a not-a-fucking-bootlicker-kind of person to bully his younger brother-in-law for becoming a cop.  </p><p>Unlike Carl Mickey's seldomly in a rush in the mornings because his boss (who is Mickey himself) has decided that work starts after breakfast, whenever the fuck that happens to happen.<br/>
So he can just sit up on the counter next to where Ian is leaning and casually watch the 7:30 am chaos unfold around him without having to give two fucks about time.</p><p>He likes sharing Ian’s cereal, stealing spoonfuls out of his bowl and dodging the half-assed attempts at thwarting him.<br/>
He likes drinking his coffee out of that stupid mug with the bear on it that he only owns because Carl Gallagher is three things:<br/>
Un-funny enough to think that Mickey Mouse jokes are acceptable, suicidal enough to give Mickey Milkovich a fucking mug for Christmas and dumb enough to not be able to tell a mouse from a fucking bear.<br/>
The bear does have kinda large ears but still, come on.</p><p>You could shove a gun into Mickey’s mouth and he wouldn’t admit it (yeah, because the fucking gun would be in his mouth but you get the fucking point) but going to work and putting in his hours as freelance-security is feeling pretty damn good.<br/>
It's awfully close to that goody two shoes, nine-to-five, white picket fence shit he feels so uncomfortable around but it's a warped enough version of all that that it doesn't actually crush his soul into tiny pieces every single day.<br/>
It's not a bad gig, he likes being out, likes moving and glaring at people and especially likes it when he gets a reason to deck a fucker.<br/>
He’s good at what he does and if the damn Milkovich name does him some good reputation-wise then he thinks that’s pretty damn well earned.</p><p>His life has been shit for a long fucking time, Mickey knows that, hates it but can’t do a fucking thing about it. In the end it all turned out alright though, so he’s not going to cry over a fucked-up childhood and youth - he doesn’t waste his time on what-ifs and if-onlys. He’s focused on the real shit. In the now.</p><p>Because he’s here now and things are good, as far as he is concerned.<br/>
Not perfect and sure as fuck not always but good.</p><p>It’s good when Ian snaps a photo of Mickey and Franny coming in from rough-housing in the back yard, wet from the rain and both of them showing off bruises. Their laughing, mud-covered faces end up as Ian’s lock screen-picture and Mickey’s okay with that.</p><p>It’s a fucking great time when Carl gets a couple of paintball guns – possibly even through legal means, Mickey is unsettled to realize – and he and Sandy spend an evening dominating the absolute fuck out of the Gallagher siblings even though they both end up fraternizing quite enthusiastically with the enemy later that night.</p><p>Things are good when Ian falls asleep on him while they’re watching a movie on the couch, their chests pressed together and Ian’s breath warm against his neck making it kinda hard to focus on the movie.<br/>
So after a while so Mickey presses a kiss to the red curls tucked under his chin and gently shakes his husband awake to get him up the stairs and into their bed where they reassume their earlier position and Mickey falls asleep to the sound of Ian’s rhythmic breathing.</p><p>It's been a wild ride, some fucked-up couple of years since he and Ian started this thing. When Mickey walks down the familiar streets or through the house, he still passes more places where they have fought than ones where they have fucked.</p><p>But it’s getting close and Mickey is nothing but determined to have some more really fucking good times around here.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!<br/>The outrageous lack of Ian and Mickey being happy with each other in both the show and the HOS have inspired me to crawl out of my hole and do what the writers couldn't: let them be loving husbands ffs.<br/>I wrote this instead of doing research for my media-psychology class i have tomorrow but i'm pretty sure that kind of behaviour counts as being media-psychologically relevant right?<br/>Anyhow, i haven't written and finished anything in literal years so i would really appreciate any kudos and comments you wanna send my way :) lemme know if there's typoes and shit or anything else i should tag and I'll fix it but it's 3am now and i cannot be arsed.<br/>Stay safe babes!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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